The Profound Sadness

I am sad.

There seems something rather odd about saying that after a bipolar depressive episode I feel sad. A profound sadness, a by-product of depression, floods my heart.

Depression is the numbing loss of hope where everything is rendered meaningless, tasteless, colourless. No joy, no peace, no love, no future. Darkness. Nothing but fucking grey darkness. Not even kind enough to be total black. Grey. Shadows. Echoes of joy, faint, barely audible in the darkness. I use to be happy?

Death is a worthy option when the psyche is dying a slow death to nothingness.

The sadness is all awareness. Awareness of how bipolar steals my time, my love, my peace, my center, my laughter. At these moments there is a profound sense of loss.

Three men have been in my life over the last four years and bipolar stole them from me. I know this ugliness was a part of their decision not to continue with me. The most recent lover to leave stings the most because my heart progressed further with him. He said, “It is too scary to love you.”

In the movie BABEL there is a scene with a young Japanese girl who is deaf and mute. She is playing in a games arcade with a female friend when a boy who thinks she is cute comes up behind her and says hello. He thinks she does not hear him so he taps her on the shoulder. When he quickly discovers she is a deaf mute he politely bows a little and backs away.

No one says, “Let me date the cripple!”

How many times do and will potential lovers back away from a deeper intimacy with me because bipolar is too much to ask them to take on? I am never angry or upset with a person because they back away from this. I would probably do the same thing. I understand. It still sucks.

The normal challenges of life are difficult. Living with a partner with a permanent health issue is more than challenging. I think it would be different if the illness came after the relationship had a chance to build a foundation. I think it is necessary for any potential lover to know very soon after something starts that there is a permanent health issue that will influence our life. There will be days of ugliness. I expect all will walk.

I am a very silly and childlike and playful guy who can think big thoughts and pick his nose. I can debate philosophy and can pig out on super chocolate fudge ice cream while watching cartoons. I want to go on great adventures with someone. Bipolar steals that from me.

When I travel I can have and have had bipolar attacks. Pressure and time zones have something to do with it. I have to limit how many projects I take on and where I can look for work. I have to monitor my stress level and personal health too much. And the part that really pisses me off and really saddens is that no matter what I do there will always be the dark days. The days I cannot talk or reach out. The noise in my brain causes so much negative energy and pain that I cannot move through it. It is like watching a movie of yourself doing and saying and thinking things that you know are not your true actions, words, or thoughts. This madness takes over leaving all rational thought and emotional maturity paralysed.

The sadness is over this tremendous loss of time. There is a part of me that believes the illness will win. It has already beaten me on occasion. A part of the sadness is that my resilience will end. Instead of bending in the storm I will break. One day one episode will occur and I will not recover. There is a part of me in the midst of the sadness that wishes the darkness will swallow me and get it over with – why bother.

I feel my spirit is being chipped away at. And we all know no one will buy anything that is chipped.

But there is still hope in my heart. The silly child is in there. I am having a bit of difficulty remembering to play after the storm. Maybe in the times of peace the hope can grow. At least regain its strength to live a few moments of peace. To find joy and laughter.